


Dreaming Of You(r Demise)

by xxxbookaholic



Series: Fantober Writing 2020 [6]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Dreams and Nightmares, First Meetings, Late Night Conversations, M/M, but it isnt horrible, it isnt that bad, kokichi's death is slightly described in graphics, this is so bad istg, walks in the night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxbookaholic/pseuds/xxxbookaholic
Summary: The man waved his hand, tears already dried up. “I seriously doubt that. Anybody out at this time of night has had to do something cruel and inhumane.”Shuichi bristled at that, mostly from the way his heart stopped, as if the stranger had spoken the truth, even when Shuichi knew he hadn’t. “I just wanted to take a walk.”ornot all chances end in death
Relationships: Oma Kokichi & Saihara Shuichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: Fantober Writing 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948714
Kudos: 52





	Dreaming Of You(r Demise)

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of bad, ngl, but it isn't horrible.  
> Written for Fantober, Day 8: First Meetings  
> I might make another fic for this prompt later.  
> This takes place in the same universe as my a thousand times better fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781394) but you don't have to read it to understand what's going on

Shuichi hadn’t been planning on taking a walk at three am. In fact, he hadn’t been planning on being _awake_ at three am at all.

The last three weeks had been spent pulling all-nighters, writing essays, taking exams, and overdosing on caffeine. It was the first night he’d had fully to himself, and yet here he was, tugging on his still-oversized jacket and stepping out in the cold night air.

He’d tried to sleep, he really had. The problem was that whenever he drifted off, all he could see were nightmares. That was another reason he’d been pulling all-nighters; every night had been plagued by dreams of blood, hydraulic presses, and a shadowy figure that, despite not being able to recognize them, he felt the undeniable urge to save.

Each dream ended the same, with the figure being crushed by the press, leaving only a dark purple jacket sleeve behind. The first few times he’d woken up from said nightmare, it had left him paralyzed with fear, feeling like he’d be pulled back into the dream and forced under the hydraulic press any second. Now, though, the paranoia was gone; all that was left was a feeling of guilt that he couldn’t quite place.

Nevertheless, it was getting out of hand. Even Kaito had noticed the bags under his eyes each day, and Kaito never noticed anything.

The wind almost knocked Shuichi off his feet when he first stepped outside, still feeling dizzy from the all-too-familiar sight of red, sticky blood. He got used to the pressure quickly, though, and continued down the street, hat tipped just over his eyes.

The street lights were on, but none of them could rival the brightness of the moon and stars overhead, twinkling and lighting the way for him. He wasn’t sure where he was going; all he knew was that he didn’t want to be in his stuffy home for any longer.

“I guess I’m _not_ the only one craziest enough to be out this late at night,” a voice snickered. Shuichi twisted his head around to see a man sitting on the sidewalk, legs strewn out in front of him, clearly not worried about the cars that had the possibility of passing by. He looked about Shuichi’s age, but there was something about his eyes that made Shuichi feel inferior to him, as if he had years of experiences that he could never begin to imagine.

It made him freeze in place; he was conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to run back to his house and not look back. Nobody out at that time of night could be completely harmless. On the other hand, though, he felt like if he left, he’d be missing a chance that he wasn’t even aware he had.

“Why are you out here?” Shuichi asked, not moving from where he was standing. He couldn’t deny that he was curious; comes from being a detective, he supposed.

The man just laughed, leaning back on his hands, “you know, the usual. Committing arson, kidnapping children, stealing from candy stores.” Still, though, even with his easy-going posture, something flashed behind his eyes, as if he’d just seen something unmistakably familiar. Shuichi had to resist the urge to turn around and see if there was something behind him.

He paused for a second, unsure if that was supposed to be a joke or not. So, he asked, “are you being serious?”

“Obviously! Are you saying you don’t believe me?” The man’s expression fell, and tears started pricking at his eyes. “You’re so mean!” His tone of voice reminded him of something just out of reach. The emotion was laced with guilt; more feelings that he could only feel, not explain.

Okay, that _had_ to be a lie. “I’d say committing arson, kidnapping children, and stealing from candy stores is much meaner than whatever I’ve done.”

The man waved his hand, tears already dried up. “I seriously doubt that. Anybody out at this time of night has had to do _something_ cruel and inhumane.”

Shuichi bristled at that, mostly from the way his heart stopped, as if the stranger had spoken the truth, even when Shuichi knew he hadn’t. “I just wanted to take a walk.”

“At three…” The man trailed off, looked down at his phone, and then visibly brightened. “Three-forty-five!”

“Yeah.” Shuichi just said, eyes casting downward.

They were silent for a moment, and then the stranger suddenly spoke, “I’m Kokichi.”

Shuichi fidgeted with the pocket of his jacket, suddenly reminded of just how cold it was. “Shuichi Saihara.”

Kokichi rolled his eyes, “wow, you’re dumber than I thought, giving your full name out to strangers like that.”

_He’s right,_ a stubborn voice in Shuichi’s head said. “I think I’d be able to defend myself if you were to attack me,” he lied. In reality, he wasn’t sure if he’d even sure if he’d be able to fight a ladybug, let alone a full-grown man. “I’m a detective.” _That_ wasn’t a lie. Not a complete one, anyway.

Kokichi’s face seemed to pale, although Shuichi couldn’t tell if it was genuine or for dramatics. Probably both. “That’s awkward,” he said, observing his eyes. “I just told a detective all of my evil plans. Welp, too late to go back on them now!”

Shuichi, possessed by some kind of last-minute-decision, moved over to sit next to Kokichi, still refusing to look him in the eye.

Kokichi stiffened for a moment, and then he completely turned around, sitting crisscrossed on the concrete. “Do I know you?”

Uncertainly, Shuichi shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” Even as he said it, though, all he could think of was checkerboard scarves, bandaged-up cuts, and hydraulic presses.

“Oh,” Kokichi mumbled, and then he sat up straight, the look of hesitance in his eyes gone in a second. “Well, enough of that. Why are _you_ out here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Shuichi stated simply, leaning backwards until he was laying on the sidewalk. Kokichi didn’t follow, just continued to sit crisscrossed, staring up at the sky.

“Sleep is for the weak,” he shrugged. “not a big deal.”

“Same for you?”

Kokichi shook his head, saying something about sorting out evil plans and setting orphanages on fire, but even so, his voice took a lilt that it hadn’t before. _Bullseye._

After that, they fell into silence that wasn’t quite comfortable but wasn’t overwhelmingly horrible, either. Shuichi tried to avoid looking directly at Kokichi, for irrational fears that if he did, the memories of inky red and drowning in tears would resurface.

Kokichi wasn’t looking at Shuichi, either. His gaze was settled intently on the stars, hand twitching.

Eventually, Shuichi did get up. He didn’t say goodbye to Kokichi, just waved and made his way back to his house, hat shifted so it was on his face more than it was on his skull.

That night, he didn’t dream of horrific deaths and rocket ships falling from space. Instead, he dreamed of twinkling stars reflecting in dark purple eyes.

——— 🎲 • ♠ • 🔍 ———

The next week, when his dreams began to turn from purple, black, and white to gray, red, and pink, he went back to that exact streetlight, trusting the star’s light to lead the way once again.

And, just as deduced, Kokichi was still sitting there, eyes glazed over in mystery and checkerboard socks still-intact.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this mess of a fic! If you did, please leave kudos and/or a comment, it keeps me writing! This will also be on my tumblr (xxxbookaholic).   
> Have a nice rest of your day/night <3


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